fault lines
by escapiism
Summary: (Thank God) they weren't meant to be. / Jason and Aria enter their junior year but nothing goes according to plan.
1. once upon another time

**title:** sweater weather

 **a/n:** I should probably stop writing Jason/Aria fics, lol. I have a major case of Writer's Block, so this is my way of finding a way out of it, using some random plot bunnies just circling around my head. From fluff, to angst, this is very random, and Jason and Aria are the same age. The idea of the same age thing is actually from an awesome fic I read, by _xbballbolin_ , called _Prodigal_ , and it's about Jason being Ali's twin. In this, he isn't actually her twin, but the same age as her (basically like Tris and Caleb). However, Melissa and Spencer are twins :D

 _Soooo_ … as ever, I don't know which way I'm heading with this, but I hope you enjoy?

 **summary:** Maybe the reason you can't escape fate, is because you're just sick of being free. / Jason and Aria enter their junior year, their past not quite behind them, and together, they learn to try to forget. (But they're just going in circles.) —jason/aria, once upon another time.

* * *

 **once upon another time.**

* * *

 _it's too cold for you here_

* * *

Rosewood has changed, Aria declares. It's the first thing she notices once she's in the car again, making their way from the airport, from Iceland, from Reykjavik, from a _happier_ time. Rosewood has changed, and they're barely through—Rosewood has changed, and Aria knows this, because _she's_ no longer here.

Alison is gone. She's been gone for a long time, and with no Alison, who is she? Alison's the one who made her, moulded her, like a little Pinocchio, and with no strings, Aria can't move. She can't _breathe_.

Icelandic Aria was an excuse for trying not to think about it. She masked herself, let her façade her way to happiness. She pretended. She pretended not to care. Aria's never been one for too much compassion.

"You look green," Mike remarks from beside her.

"Good to know," Aria says, and rolls her eyes. She knows what Mike has done, too. He's like her in too many ways to count, and she knows how he's been throughout the year. Mike's pretended to be alright for the entirety of their stay, possibly before, too, and Mike's pretended that what happened in Rosewood hadn't got to him at all. If Mike's so scathed by Alison, of whom he barely knew, then how will he be like when she tells him about their father, and his—

But if he doesn't know, then harm can't be done, right? If she doesn't tell, the secret will soon shrivel up, and all will be forgotten, just like that.

They pass some trees. It's silent for a while, and she loves it. Silence is not appreciated in the way it should be, and Aria closes her eyes, even for just a millisecond.

"Aria, can I borrow your phone?"

Aria inwardly groans, and only clamps her eyes shut harder. It doesn't help, however, because Mike's literally pulling on the threads of her worn-out denim jacket.

She shakes her head, and says, "No."

As Mike groans, Aria instead concentrates on her phone, scrolling through countless contacts, all meaningless little words. Maybe this should mean something good, but instead it means nothing. Letters, words, all jumbled up. Her friends. Her _friends_. People who just don't care; who just don't understand. People who—

 _Jason_.

She knows his number off heart. _0756_ —

"Aria, let your brother use your phone," her mother utters, from somewhere. Wherever, whatever, Aria can't hear it, and she's staring at her phone like it's all she has left. Or maybe _he's_ all she has left. Or had. Or… _did_ she even have him in the first place?

* * *

 _February 16th 2009_

 _Aria knocks at his door frantically, her heart beating like a frenzied car chase—she's confused, and she doesn't understand her actions, but in the moment, all she cares about is seeking comfort. And nowadays, the only place where she can get that is here, not just in the house, through bare walls, but with_ him _, and not Alison, but_ him _._

 _"Yeah, who is—" He blinks twice when_ _he sees her. "Aria?"_

 _She knows he can see the tears lingering in her eyes, or at least the tracks they left behind. She knows he can see her shaking, and she knows he can read her like a book. She knows it all, because she knows him, and she only hopes he knows her._

 _"Hello," Aria says, her voice hoarse and raspy._

 _"Aria…" Jason says, but stops. He instead holds out her hand, takes her by it, and pulls her in. "Bloody hell, you're freezing, Aria… This… you're just asking for pneumonia. Trust me, I've had it before, and spent at least half a year coughing, and wheezing, and emitting snot whenever possible, but hey, it wears off. Now, are you going to give me an ans—"_

 _"I'm sorry," Aria interrupts him. "I just needed you."_

 _Jason raises an eyebrow. "Okay, what's wrong? Let me guess… Stefan and Elena broke up. Wait… or was it Jeremy? No, it can't be… can it? That other thing you watched!_ That's _it!"_

 _Aria almost laughs at his bashfulness. "Is Ali home?"_

 _Jason shakes his head. "No, she's with a 'friend'. Was never specific, though. Never is."_

 _Aria shrugs. "That's just Alison." She pauses. "Is your mum home? Your dad?"_

 _Jason looks at her in bewilderment. "What are you hinting at?"_

 _"Nothing," Aria says quickly. "It's just that neither your parents, or Ali know about us, and I don't know how I'm going to live with the shame of any of them walking in on us… I mean, if we're…" Aria stops herself short when she realises which direction she is going. That's the thing about Jason, isn't it? She comes for one thing, and gets herself into a mess of another. Ironic, really._

 _Jason laughs. "Right. Now you're going to tell me, aren't you? Even if we're a secret, we shouldn't be keeping any… right?"_

 _"What's the reason I came here?" Aria asks rhetorically._

 _Jason looks thoughtful for a couple of moments. "To kiss me?"_

 _Aria finally giggles, and leans in to capture his lips—it doesn't feel… like_ that. _She knows her heart's not fully in it, and she knows_ he _knows, too._

 _So she tells him. She spills her_ guts _out to him._

 _"My dad cheated on my mum…" Aria says, and then pinches the bridge of her nose. "Again. I mean… he… he_ told _me; he_ swore _that Meredith was history, but then I'm just walking into Hollis, and there they are, on the couch, and…" Aria doesn't finish; she can't. Not without collapsing._

 _"Shh, shh," Jason says, receiving the message she never sent. He closes the door fully behind her, and warms her up by letting her head rest on his chest. His arms pull her close, and he rubs his hands down her arms, in any attempt to stop her from shivering. "Think about rainbows."_

 _"Meredith looks like the rainbow," says Aria. "She dresses brightly—too brightly."_

 _"Okay," Jason says. "Then think about anything_ but _Meredith."_

 _"You just said her name," Aria says, and she frowns._

 _Jason looks at her, amused. "What, is it illegal for me to at least try?"_

* * *

They arrive home—the sense of nostalgia is almost non-existent, because there's nothing so brilliant, and dazzling about their… God, home sounded distant. Home sounded… strange. Home wasn't the right word—at least, not any more.

"Aria, can you drive Mike to lacrosse try outs?" Ella bustles up behind her, her arm linked with Byron (to which Aria slightly vomits in her mouth), and before Aria can even start to respond, she places the car keys in her hand. And as Mike dumps several boxes around him on the floor, in search of his lacrosse stick, Aria realises that even if it's barely anything; even if it's still so unfamiliar she can't quite grasp onto its means, she realises all the same, that things are slowly— _slowly_ —returning to normal. And if she's honest with herself, she needs normalcy.

Mike pulls Aria outside as soon as he's picked what he needed up, and Aria, although grudgingly, lets her little brother haul her to the car.

"Right, now you owe me," Aria says through gritted teeth, as she starts the car.

"You can watch Noel Kahn," Mike says, setting his feet up onto car. "I mean, he's trying out. And you've always liked him, haven't you?" He adds a sneer to the end of his words, and Aria winces at his words. It's not a lie to say she doesn't find him hideous, and it's even more of one is she says she's never liked him like that before, but not anymore. She can't. She doesn't even like _Jason_ like that… anymore.

"You're a little bundle of joy," remarks Aria, and this commences their ten minutes of silence, from the end of their road, to (finally) Rosewood High. She pulls the car to a halt, and taps the steering wheel—she almost refuses to set her gaze on the school, _her_ school. It's a place she hasn't thought about for about a year now. It's a place she doesn't exactly one to revisit. It's a place that holds a memory too many.

"Right," Aria says, turning back to Mike. "Now bugger off."

"Are you sure you don't want to see Noel?" asks Mike, a little serious. "I mean, I think he likes—"

"I said, _go_!" Aria says, and Mike finally leaves, taking his green lacrosse stick, and naivety with him. Aria is left to examine herself in the mirror, fixing her slightly off-putting makeup. She might not be Pink Hair Spunk anymore, but she's not a beauty queen, and she's certainly not Alison.

She glances at the clock, and wonders if she can try this new Aria out. Icelandic Aria in Rosewood. How hot would that be?

She starts the car again, and almost— _almost_ —doesn't wince when she spots that poster, so clearly with _her_ face upon it. Shaking her head, she drives on, clearing her mind in the process.

* * *

She ends up at this place called _Snookers_ —it isn't dodgy, and it's not exactly a bar. It reminds her of Iceland, and how she'd talk guys into buying her fries, well, _chips_ , and coffee, and it reminds her of how they'd take her out afterwards, and they'd spend hours just enjoying each other's company, as they watched the harbour. None of these… guys lasted, though. Aria wasn't ever looking for a relationship in Iceland. Not after…

"What would you like?" the waiter asks her.

"Um…" Aria almost slips up in to Icelandic. _Improvise_ , _Aria!_ "…A cheeseburger. Please."

The waiter gives her a small nod, and Aria turns back around, feeling a little awkward. The old Aria is returning, but she is trying her best to hide it. It's not working, but who is there to judge? She drums her fingers on her knees, before letting out a yawn.

"You all right there?"

Aria blushes, and turns her attention to the person who just spoke—this guy with curly hair is staring at her strangely, and this only makes Aria blush harder. "Uh…" Pause. "I'm a bit jet-lagged? I just got back from Iceland."

He gives her a look that makes her feel funny. "Where in Europe?"

"Oh, um, Iceland," she says.

He nods, and smiles. "I spent some time in Reykjavik before I went to Amsterdam."

Aria smiles along, "It's a great city. I miss it, and I only stayed a year." He looks at her pointedly, and Aria sighs. "I almost cried the whole journey home."

"Almost?" he asks.

Aria laughs, just as she hears the tune of a song she knows all too well. She pushed _that_ thought to the very back of her mind, however, and lets the lyrics run wild. "God, I love this song."

The next look he gives her makes her feel funny again, but a different kind. He is hesitant, as if he is trying to work out what her reaction will be. "B26…"

Aria nods, and notices him edging a little closer. She hitches her breath—this… guy… is awfully cute, but she's only just met him, and once again, she's not ready for another relationship.

He's coming closer. But this time, so is Aria. Boundaries don't matter anymore—she doesn't care if all they've exchanged are about five words, because he… whoever this is… is kissing her now, and she'll lie to say she doesn't like it.

* * *

Georgia gets too cold too quickly. It's September, and Jason's already freezing half to death once he's out of the house.

Times like these, he misses Rosewood so much. It's not just the memories—the memories of Alison. The memories of high school, lacrosse, his friends. The memories of… _her_. It's not just because he needs any more reminders… moreover, it's because…

It's because that's all it is.

Once you leave Rosewood, whether it's to Fiji, or Quebec, Rosewood can never leave you—Jason's learn that the hard way. A year out and about in Georgia, prancing about through schools, and rehabilitation centres, Jason's learnt that sometimes they are like ghosts, haunting, terrifying, and yet like his hold habits. Annoyingly addictive.

The first few months or so were alright—the shock of Alison had somewhat disappeared (even if they were nowhere near _completely forgetting_ ), and they'd been able to move on, in the lightest way possible. Things were awkward though, and Jason recalled many, many, _many_ dinners eaten in silence, with those looks of disappointment, and perplexity, and utter _it should have been you, Jason_.

That lasted for about two months. Then it came back, and this time it stayed—this shock was powerful, not like before. This shock was a reminder of how they'd never been able to do anything, even if there was nothing they'd be able to do anyway, if they could turn back time.

Jason's sixteenth birthday was hardly a "celebration"—his grandmother, _weeks_ before dying, had got him a pair of used socks. Jason swore his dad forgot about him. His mother was just… his mother. Of all birthdays, the one highlight would be Alison, and her pranks, and her laugh—but there was none of that. No Alison. None of her at all.

The next months passed in more silence. There was still no news of Alison—they had come to the worst. They were fearing the day where her bones would be announced—Jason in particular. Alison, his baby sister, dead. All because he wasn't able to actually care about where she was, and what she was doing. All because he was too clogged up with pot, and alcohol. It's the same reason, it always is. It's always his fault—he loses everyone, because he simply _doesn't do well enough_.

And then there was the now. The now, where Jason was too busy thinking about things that he shouldn't, regretting things that were quite possibly the best things in his life. Where Jason _is_ doing all of that.

Georgia gets too cold too quickly. And now—and now Jason is pretty sure it's not just the fallacy of the weather.

* * *

The first day at school is always the hardest—Aria's learnt that only from experience. It's not just Rosewood that's changed, but everybody, everything—it all took a drastic turn down the rabbit hole, and now Aria's left being Alice, picking up the pieces. It's like that jigsaw puzzle—the one where there's always that missing piece. The one that leaves that gaping hole.

Hanna is no longer plump, and hefty, but very much like… Alison. And Mona is by her side, Mona with her old pogo stick, and yo-yo. They rule the school together—and that's all she's heard from Mike, via Noel Kahn, of course.

Emily hasn't changed, not much—she's still Emily, beautiful, and still swimming. She's still dating Ben, too—but then again, everything changing gets boring, doesn't it?

Spencer hasn't changed, either—she seems edgier, Aria can guess. Spencer's always been the one she can connect to—Spencer's always been the one Aria's been able to spend time with the most without getting totally bored, even if Spencer's, she doesn't know, reciting the periodic table, or listing the dates of British History.

They get each other.

Or at least, they used to.

Aria enters the classroom—AP English is first. Aria tries not to wince when she spots the empty seat diagonal to her—it doesn't take too long to figure out who that belongs to, and yet Aria refuses to let herself think about that, because it's in the past. Things like that stay like that. Or else dinosaurs would still be on the planet. And maybe a war—or two—would still be raging on.

Emily gives her a small, reassuring smile as she enters, too. Spencer waves, and Hanna gives her a two-fingered salute, before bursting into giggles with Mona.

"Have you heard about the new English teacher?" Emily asks.

"Nope," Aria says.

"I haven't heard much," she says. "But I heard he's really hot."

Aria gives a small mutter, her gaze still fixated on the empty seat—will he come in, as usual, twenty minutes late, and come sit in that same space? How is she meant to face him? What is she supposed to say?

Emily seems to be able to read her mind. "Jason left."

Spencer turns around at the mention, and even Hanna's head bops up.

"When?" Aria asks.

"Not long after you went to Iceland," Spencer says. "I guess it was the stress… with Alison."

"I don't blame him," Hanna quips up, from nowhere. She has taken the seat next to Aria, Mona chatting with Noel in the seat behind her. Hanna holds out her hand, and slips it into Aria's, squeezing it ever so softly.

Aria gulps. "Where did he go?"

Emily and Hanna shrug, but Spencer says, "My dad said they went to Georgia. Where their grandmother lives—lived."

Aria looks up quizzically.

"She died," Spencer says, sighing a little.

"Man," Aria says, a tone struck between concern, and curiosity. "How do you know all of this?"

Spencer shrugs, "My dad and his mum were close. Our families were pretty close, in general."

Aria nods, and they drift off to their own worlds as someone walks in—probably the new, really hot teacher, with curly hair that reminds him of an elf's, and quite possibly the most adorable—

"Holy crap."

Aria is staring at the teacher—but he isn't her teacher. Well, he is… but he's the… he's _the_ guy. The guy who she kissed only the day before. The teacher is staring at her, too, and she's pretty sure the rest of the class are as well. Aria feels her phone vibrate in her front pocket, and with any light of hope of them _looking away_ , Aria clears her throat, and reads the message.

 **Maybe he fools around with students all the time.  
Just ask your dad!  
—A**

Coming home was a terrible idea indeed.

* * *

"Can you leave me alone?"

"Jason."

Jason shakes his head in utter annoyance as his mother attempts to pull his head out of his pillow—school, each day, has become more of a chore than a doing. In fact, it always has been—well, at least back at Rosewood High he had _friends_. And a sister. And a girlfriend—

He has a pile of unfinished homework in a messy rampage on his desk, and he knows he has at least seventeen detentions he'd missed, but that's the least of his worries. Everything's the least of his worries actually.

"You haven't been doing well in school," she says, causing Jason to burrow himself more under his duvet. He closes her eyes as she pulls the covers back over his head—he takes a moment to look beyond his whole room, outside. It's nowhere, not really, but it's anything better than the look Jessica is currently giving him.

"It's none of your business," Jason remarks.

"Jason, usually there's method to your madness, but this…" Jessica sighs, and runs her hand through her hair. "You've been acting like this for a long, long time, and your dad and I are getting worried. You haven't settled in. You don't have any friends—"

"Mum," Jason says, gritting his teeth. "Can you go?"

"I know… Alison," Jessica sighs. "But it's been a year. Can't we all let it go?"

Jason raises his eyebrows, and gets out of bed, picking up his school jumper. "She's not dead. Yet. She's just disappeared, and she'll come back." _She has to. She didn't say goodbye to him—she's coming back_.

His mother only shakes her head, and walks to the door—she looks back at him, frowning, before saying, "I didn't want to tell you like this, but we're moving. Back. To Rosewood. In a few weeks—that's what your father and I have decided."

Jason stares at her incredulously—he hides his coming smile, and instead, gives her a strange look, to which she finally ( _finally_ ) leaves him alone.

When the door finally closes, Jason lets out a sigh of relief, something he's not felt since the day his sister disappeared—maybe it's relief, because every moment in Georgia was a living hell; maybe it's relief, because maybe— _maybe_ —Alison's still there. At home. Waiting.

(Or maybe it's relief, because it's his chance, it could be, to start making amends with the people he's left behind; to the people he's hurt. To her. To Aria.)

* * *

Aria has never thought her life to be such a hectic mess… until now. She's recovered, almost, perhaps, from the initial shock of finding out the charming, adorable man she'd met at the bar, harmlessly, _harmlessly_ , is her current AP English teacher, and apparently someone knows about it. _A_. Alison?

She doesn't even know his name. All she knows is—

"Um," he says, taking his eyes off her nervously. "Uh… I'm Mr Fitz. Your, uh, new English teacher. I'll be taking over from now on." Aria's made out with him, and all she knows is that he's _Mr Fitz_. Why had she been such a slut? She's never done that before. "Please open your copies to page twenty-seven, and we'll start reading from there…"

* * *

 _June 1st 2008_

 _Aria enters the classroom, her arm linked with Alison, and her other with Spencer's—they're going off about the_ Celebrity of the Year _, or something about that, and Spencer's rambling about healthy eating, or whatever. Aria's zoomed out: it's what she usually does._

 _She takes a seat—her seat—the one not quite near the middle, for that's the one reserved for Alison, but the one beside that._

 _Spencer and Alison are deep in conversation, and Emily and Hanna start joining in—Aria's just staring right out in front of her. The door opens, again—Noel Kahn comes in, winks at her, and takes his seat. He is followed by Jason, God,_ beautiful _Jason, and this dude called James Freeman, or something—the one with ginger hair, and emerald eyes. Just at the sight of Jason, her stomach does… backflips, and scientifically, goodness knows what's going to happen to her, but—_

 _"What're your thinking about?" he queries, as he turns around._

 _"Nothing," Aria answers quickly—he raises his eyebrows, unconvinced. Man, the way he looks at her, no, the way he simply_ looks _. She turns her head just a little to her left, seeing Alison_ not _seeing her—this means it's safe to have a conversation with Jason, something of a "vagrant". So far, so good, she's followed these rules, because anything's better than her taking a one-way down dorkdom. Maybe… not like Mona, but still, she'd save herself from shaving_ Monster High _dolls any old day._

 _"Nothing indeed," Jason says, grinning—it's something about his green, green eyes. The glint, the glint that makes her feel so… funny. Weak in the knees. Gooey. "Hey, Aria." Aria gives him a small "mm?", and he carries on—"You look really cute when you're thoughtful."_

 _Aria opens her copy of_ Rebecca _, and hopes to God he hasn't seen her reaction._

* * *

First loves are the hardest. She's picked that up without much effort, and usually everything's in need of some of that nowadays—Aria knows. Maybe it's the first thing she actually does.

But is—was—Jason her first love? They weren't much of a loved-up couple, given their need to sneak around (the other option: _let Alison fucking DiLaurentis gauge our eyes out_ ), and it's no lie to say they hadn't fought. Man, _understatedly_ —Aria could (and would) swear that half the time she and Jason were sparking unwanted fire towards each other, each vicious word, everything. And mostly, what they had built up was from lust… and she guessed, the idea of their own little secret. Yes, there were times when they'd wanted out of this snare; when they'd wanted to _stop_ their little game, but there were times when she—and he—loved this thing they had latched onto. Loved what they had. Loved the feeling. Loved _each other_.

But then it all crashed down. Incidentally, on _that_ —

"…Aria?"

What a perfect cliché. Aria nods at whoever called her name out, only to see its not Emily, nor Spencer, _nor_ Hanna—its him. The man—the stranger— _her_ teacher.

"Sorry," Aria says, blushing furiously. She's missed the question, but old quirks are kicking in. Her nervousness, her stupid, _embarrassing_ tendency to turn drastically to that ugly shade of beetroot at completely irregular times… Aria scrambles through her notebook, resulting in her dropping her pencil case, and Aria _knows_ she's flaming up.

The bell rings. Aria could scream in relief. As everyone starts to get up, she knows they're giving her strange, strange looks, and she knows its _him_ in particular. He's staring at her in a way he _knows_ him; in a way he can see straight through her. Straight through Icelandic Aria; straight through Pink Hair Aria. Straight through her everything; straight through all she has.

Aria shivers, but walks out of the classroom all the same.

* * *

"Are you coming to the party?" Emily asks as they walk down the corridor. Aria questions her with a look, and Emily laughs slightly, before saying, "Noel Kahn's whole _Welcome Back_ party. You know, the one… Ali… used to drag us to?"

Aria wonders how long it will be until they can say Alison's name without wincing.

Aria then shakes her head. "I don't think so—I've just come back. I—I don't think I feel like it."

"That's alright," Emily smiles. "Um, catch up with you later?"

"Sure," Aria gives her a smile, too. Aria watches Emily as she walks away, but there's something burning in her that she can't seem to get rid of—the text. Why hasn't she thought about that until now? She was there, at the bar, yesterday, _harmlessly_ , and may she add, completely alone. And she hadn't been stupid enough to tell anyone about the almost-fling-turned-nightmare, for no one needed to know, and _yet_ someone _did_.

"Oh my god."

She must have said it a little louder than most, because many heads are turned, including Emily's—Aria sinks down, her face in her palms, and she breathes in, and out, heavily, then lightly. Emily's hand reaches hers, but what should be comforting is not, and Aria looks up to Emily for some sort of an answer.

"What happened?" Emily asks.

"It's messed up," Aria groans. Does she trust Emily? Y-yes. Does she trust Emily _enough_? No.

"Somebody left a note in my locker."

The eight words go past in less than a heartbeat, and Aria almost doesn't realise it's actually happened—like one of those moments in films, when it's so important, yet it's so… _invisible_. Emily clamps her hand over her mouth after she says it, but there's something of relief on her face.

"Right," Aria says slowly, hoping for the worst. "And this note…" Emily meets her eyes pointedly, and Aria doesn't have to ask again. She sighs, but there is a part of her that has lifted—"From… A?"

Emily nods numbly. "You, too?"

Aria doesn't have to say any more.

* * *

Lights are flashing everywhere—nightfall has already taken place. Red, to blue, to white—incandescent, then non-existent. Aria is standing behind yellow lines, and Spencer is by her side. From spilling her guts to Emily, she has found herself here, and almost does the same to Spencer.

The coroners are approaching—Aria's breathing is getting heavier. There are more lights. Spencer is now squeezing her hand. Both are frightened to speak.

It is Alison's _body_ they have found.

"They took Hanna to the police station today," is the first words Spencer utters. Her voice is pulled taut, and she bites back a flinch. Aria refuses to meet her gaze, and only watches out in front of her as she listens. What is it supposed to mean?

Aria swallows. They have all had their fair share of secrets—she knows, from just a year ago, Hanna was the one who hated them the most. Like… "The Jenna Thing". Who was the person who wanted out first? "You don't think—"

"I'd tell them about what we did to Jenna?" Hanna appears out of nowhere, an equally grim expression on her face. "We promised." But before either Aria or Spencer can let out a sigh of relief, they catch sight of the coroners, and this time, once empty hands are pushing something that resembles a wheeled-hospital bed. And there is she.

Alison.

Emily is with a curly-haired girl on the doorstep of Alison's old house.

Alison is being carted off.

Alison is dead.

Where are _they_ supposed to stand?

* * *

The funeral will not be a quiet affair, Aria thinks—Alison was popular, in life, and probably in death, too. This is the first thing that happened in Rosewood which isn't about pumpkin festivals, or new butterfly species—this is not something people will ignore. This is something possibly the entirety of Rosewood, and perhaps beyond, will come to, and cherish as its first communised "mystery". As mysteries went, the girl who lived on secrets… the girl who wanted more than a mystery. A girl who wanted immortality—she'd got what she wanted, hadn't she? A lifetime of unforgotten—and unforgettable—memories, and a name which everyone will fear.

Oh, how she would love it.

Aria pulls her black dress down to her knees. She is dreading this thing. For a year she's been anyone but _just Ali's best friend_ , and now it will all come rushing back.

She arrives early—too early, almost. She's standing in the empty church, and doesn't do anything. She hears a car stop from behind her, but she ignores it, and ventures in.

She's not the only one in. Aria can smell Jessica DiLaurentis' (sickening) perfume from a mile away.

Aria shakes her head, and makes for the stairs—the church is somewhere she hasn't been in more than seven years… she just hopes she'd going the right direction.

Someone is already there. By the window. Still as a toy soldier, staring. Just staring.

It's Jason.

"Hi."

The word tastes foreign on her mouth, and when he doesn't respond straight, Aria contemplates on whether it really _is_ him. But seconds later, he does turn around—his shirt is already ruffled, and his ties has already almost been undone. Typical of him, really.

"Hey," Jason murmurs. His voice stays emotionless, but he is staring into her, in a way it's _oh, my god, where have you been all along?_ "It's… it's you…" Jason doesn't move from his place, but Aria does, taking a few steps so they are levelling each other. Aria looks out into the horizon, too.

"How have you been?" Aria asks.

"Good," nods Jason. "You?"

Aria doesn't answer. Instead: "I heard you went away."

Jason nods again, and bites his lip gently. "I did. To Georgia—but my parents decided it was time to come back. And then…"

 _And then Ali's body gets found_. _Coincidence?_

Aria shuffles to her right, and clasps her hand in his. This is something that feels so… strange, and yet right, all at the same time. _He doesn't know I went to Iceland_.

Should she tell him? Or should she just stick to trying to cheer him up?

She says nothing.

* * *

Jason is in the pew behind the other girls, of whom she can just about make out. Jason spots her, and gives her the weakest of smiles, prior to their rather… bashful run-in. Aria wonders where to seat, before—

"Aria!" Jessica DiLaurentis bustles up, and grins at her. "I'm glad you came. Why don't you come sit with me, Kenneth, Jason, and the other girls at the front?" She takes a small breath. "I'm sure that's what she would have wanted—Alison. Friends, and family, supporting her even after her…"

"Of course," Aria says. She walks to the front staring into Alison's picture, so vivid, so beautiful, so alive. Someone grabs at her hand—she looks down to see it is Hanna, ushering her to find the seat beside them. So Aria silently nods, and the girls all shuffle up.

It is only moment later when they pluck up the courage to talk. A year before, they'd shared their darkest of secrets, and now they can barely say "hello".

"Can you believe what a scene this is?" Hanna says, a smile strewn on her face.

"Alison would have loved it," agrees Aria.

Spencer carries on, "Popular in life, and death."

Aria notices Emily's silence, but decides better not to question it. Her phone goes off, as if it is on cue—scared to death it will be from that cryptic "A" again, Aria ignores it. But the looks the other girls are giving her, and her own unsure conscience, Aria flips out her phone, and reluctantly starts to read.

 **The truth really does hit you, doesn't it? It wakes you up. It woke me up.  
** **—A**

When she looks back up, Emily is giving her a look of _what was it now?_ , and Hanna and Spencer are exchanging ones themselves. Aria sighs deeply. "Emily and I aren't the only ones getting messages from A, are we?"

They shake their head, causing Aria to bite her tongue—or else she'll scream, because it's been two messages, and already is she feeling horrendous.

The priest starts to speak, and Aria tries to forget.

* * *

Aria grips onto Hanna's hand as they leave the church—she doesn't give Jason a second glance. One more moment in that place, and she would have spontaneously combusted, all from the pressure of just being there, for Alison, when there's no more to do for her.

" _Ahem_."

They are stopped short as the hairs of the back of their necks arise at a voice they do not recognise.

"Emily. Spencer. Aria and Hanna," he carries on.

Aria starts in a rather shaky voice, "Do we know you?"

"I'm Detective Wilden," he says, and gives them all a smirk of some sorts. "I understand you were all good friends with the, ah, victim."

"Yeah, we _were_ ," Hanna says, emphasizing her point.

Detective Wilden shuffles his feet as Hanna speaks, rather awkwardly. "I'm going to need to talk to each one of you."

Spencer interrupts, "We talked to the police when Alison went missing."

"And I intend to go over every one of your statements," Detective Wilden carries on, completely unscathed. "This is no longer a missing person's investigation—" He pauses for emphasis. "It's a murder." Another pause. "Rest assured, I _will_ find out what happened that summer."

And then he's off.

Creeped out, Aria turns to the other girls, and says, "Do you think he knows about—"

"No," Emily says sternly. "How could he, any—"

Her voice trails off by the sound of each of their phones' ringtones—

"Oh, my god," Hanna says quietly.

"It's from—" Spencer doesn't finish, but she doesn't have to, because—

"I got one, too."

 **I'm still here, bitches.  
And I know everything.  
—A**

* * *

 **a/n:** I have no idea where I'm heading with this—I don't even know if I will, but here is it. Tada. This took me too long to write, mostly because I got bored out of my mind when I reached the funeral, lol.

So, a few things— This will be very book-related… kind of the same Jason as it is in the books. A little less guilt-consumed, a little less creepy, and so on. And he'll be more involved, and his relation with Spencer/Melissa won't change. Also, I don't ship Stelena. That was a little random… And the Jaria in this will be very like one of my OTPs from _Teen Wolf_ , Stydia, so you'll see many similarities ;)

Now, I will enjoy my three-day weekend ;)


	2. here we go again

**title:** sweater weather

 **a/n:** this story will be a relatively short one, only until before the five-month time-jump. so between twenty and thirty chapters :) anyway, thank you for all the response! because exams are now, more or less, over, i am on a roll with updating! thank you for giving me inspiration, all you wonderful reviewers, favourite-ers, and followers! :DD

 **summary:** Maybe the reason you can't escape fate, is because you're just sick of being free. / Jason and Aria enter their junior year, their past not quite behind them, and together, they learn to try to forget. (But they're just going in circles.) —jason/aria, once upon another time.

* * *

 **here we go again**.

* * *

 _maybe i'll crash into you_

* * *

The aftermath isn't so bad.

They walk into school—sure, perhaps a little bit on edge, and sure, a little frazzled with empty words of wisdom passed on by meaningless strangers in black, and sure, maybe they're jolted to an extent they're almost, perhaps, probably, most definitely terrified, but...

But Aria has absolutely no freaking idea.

Because pretending only goes so far. And normalcy is a whole new world—with this new cryptic cyberbully "A" who apparently knows their secrets, and with Alison just... gone... How the hell are they supposed to act? Funerals, chime bells, and coroners—a delicious rhyme, and yet a disgusting smudge of oily black. For when the lionheart is gone, where do they stand? Who do they have to become, when the person they'd thought was indestructible was the first to fall? What can they do when Alison, gone, gone, gone as she is, is very much still here, and not gone at all?

Correction: The aftermath is a lot worse than anything expected.

* * *

Aria slams her locker—it's not like she's in a pissy mood, or anything. It's more that she has nothing else to do. School is boring; home is more boring; the cemetery isn't even an option. Aria has no idea where her phone is—or more like, Aria left her phone in the half-silver drawer she used to stuff old pebbles and synthetic candles in—hidden, but not quite.

"Hey," Spencer murmurs.

Aria gives her a half smile, as Emily joins them, too. Hanna is somewhere with Mona, and although Hanna seems warmer than yesterday, barriers stand as they are.

"You look happy," gently teases Spencer, squeezing Emily's shoulder. In return, Emily blushes, and Aria guesses she'd tease along, but something else claims her attention—well, more like someone, because the two doors of Rosewood High are opened, and in comes the last person Aria'd thought would be here.

His hoodie is kinda tatty, and Aria recalls him wearing it a few hundred times before. That colour right in between blue and black, always with the slightly grey uneven strings. But he's always been a fidgeter.

"It's Jason," says Emily.

Aria only nods numbly. Jason sees them, looks like he wants to ignore them, but starts making his way to them. His expression is unreadable, and he looks so unlike yesterday it has to be impossible. Jason smiles, they all smile back, but no one dares speak.

Aria saw him yesterday, and yet it feels like a decade.

"Oh, my God."

The voice isn't from Spencer, or Emily, or even Aria. Nothing roots back to Hanna. Instead:

"Where have you been all this time?" Mona hops up from behind them all, tugging Hanna's arm.

"Georgia," Jason replies blankly, lips strewn. He doesn't give Mona a second glance, before turning on his heel. It's a quick look Jason flashes Aria, but it's one all the same, and already her lips, they are puckering, and her heart, it is racing, and—

"Jason DiLaurentis, please report to the principal's office."

Jason doesn't move an inch. He's staring at something. Aria follows his gaze. It's nothing. The voice repeats. Jason stays unscathed.

Spencer and Emily exchange looks—Hanna bites her lip. Mona blinks. Aria tugs his arm, and sighing, says, "Jason. He called your name." When it is evident he isn't replying, or going, for that matter, with Aria having half a mind to literally haul him down the corridor, she says again, "Jason."

"Hm?" he answers.

"Jason DiLaurentis!"

He flinches, suddenly, before nodding quickly, and walking away in the completely wrong direction. He is gone, and the silence tumbles in.

Mona is the first to speak—"Well... That was..."

"Weird," finished Aria.

Mona then jumps. "Oh, my God, it's time."

Hanna looks at her questioningly, "Time for what?"

Mona taps the side of her nose, and skips down the hallway, clutching her little red Prada handbag. Now Mona's gone, too, things can't get any more awkward, and they're just left to bore their eyes into the locker in front of them—it takes Aria two point six seconds to realise it's Jason's old one.

God, why are her thought so... Jason again? He's been back a day, and now he's back at school, and before that they were about a thousand miles apart, a million words behind, and plus, with the way they ended...

The way she ended things.

Aria swallows her breath—yes, he's back. Jason is back. But I. Don't. Care. Aria, she swallows again—have the others sensed her pulse, her nervousness, her almost bulging vein on her forehead? Are they even there at all? I can't. I'm not going to go down that road again.

Just as Aria returns to normal, she sees two silhouettes in the not-so far-off distance—it was just surprise, after surprise, wasn't it?

"It seems like Toby and Jenna are back in school," Spencer speaks up.

"Hey, wasn't Jenna at that blind school, or something?" asks Hanna.

Toby and Jenna's outline are clearing, and Aria looks away quickly—God, did they look intimidating.

The bell rings—Aria sees Ez (the faded, almost illegible writing on that old red notebook of his actually contributed, it seems)... Mr Fitz walking down the corridor, a little satchel slung low over his shoulder, all Ivy League looks, and sensibility she could probably feel from a mile away. Mr Fitz—her teacher, her teacher, and yet no, he isn't, he can't be, because he's that guy—the stranger she was clever enough to make out with. The stranger. Her teacher. NO!

Aria can't.

Aria can't.

ARIA CAN'T.

Aria won't just sit there, at her desk two tables from the centre, acting normal, when all she can see is red. Red on Ezra. Red on Mr Fitz; red on her teacher. She's just going in a loop.

"Aria, you okay?" asks Hanna seriously. Aria only nods, and they walk into class. For a second, it's okay. For a second, she forgets. She's back where she was, a little more than a year back, and she's linked arms with Ali. Ali smiles, and winks, little dimples adorning her flushed cheeks—Aria, or Spencer, or Hanna, or Emily have no clue why she's blushing suddenly (although Aria thinks it's the way Emily is looking at her. It's happy. They're happy. Boys are staring as the famous five walk in—girls are admiring. Jason's there. They lock eyes—and she discreetly smiles. He does the same. The teacher is the old hag of a woman.

"Aria!" Emily shakes Aria's arm, and she awakes from her daze. Damn, and she was getting to the good part. Kind of. Hanna, too, is looking at her in concern—Spencer turns, and though her head seems somewhere else, she murmurs a few words, reassuring, but Aria doesn't know how.

"S-sorry," stutters Aria. "Back-to-school vibes, you know?"

They buy it. Thank bloody God.

And then she's back into reality—sweet, sweet reality, where everything's a mess. Maybe when she's thirty-something, applying some wrinkle-free cream, she'd look back, and go, Hey, d'you remember when I was sixteen or something, and made out with a stranger. Totally wrong move. He ended up being my English teacher. And perhaps it would be passed down as some joke, through generations, and generations. And hey, maybe if she became famous, they'd make memes, or something.

Aria sits. People are laughing, smiling. Spencer tries to pick up a conversation, but it's evident it's failing. Aria takes out her book, and reads. Boredom is already germinating.

"Good morning, class," the teacher walks in. Mr Fitz, Mr Fitz, Mr Fitz. He smiles at them all, and Aria opts to not look up at all. God, how hard this is. Yes, perhaps she was a little attracted to him, and maybe, just maybe, is a little now, but it's wrong. And she's not looking for a relationship— God, what the hell, Aria?

"Um, good morning," he repeats. There a grudging replies, to which he picks up a set of file paper from his desk. He walks around the classroom, placing one by one at each table—he's talking about the past day, and some formal assessments yet to come. When he gets to Aria, his eyes linger on hers, almost too much to raise suspicions, and then he's off again. He stops at the empty seat, and looks around, almost in question.

And then, the door to the classroom opens again.

There's Jason. It's so Jason of him, to appear right then, right there, and it's insouciant, almost, but Aria can see the weariness, the tire—she knows he's not trying, not anymore.

Mr Fitz's eyebrows arch. "Are you in this class?"

He nods. He ignores the almost uproar coming from his old "friends". Jason ignores them. Jason ignores everyone. It takes him ten seconds to nod, and even then he doesn't say anything. His lips are in a strewn line, unmoving, almost scary.

The glow is gone. His smile, his laugh, one so incendiary, so incredible... Drained.

"Right," Mr Fitz nods. "Welcome, Mr..."

"Jason," he replies coolly, and he fingers the hem of his hoodie. "DiLaurentis. Do us all a favour, and don't take pity." His blatant words almost throw the teacher off course, and so he adds, "Sorry. I'm just sick of questions. I don't have answers."

"I was never—"

"Sure," Jason interrupts.

* * *

"When did Jason become so emo?" Hanna says to Aria as soon as the bell marks the end of English. Aria shrugs, and watched as Jason gets up from his seat—Noel Kahn asks him a few questions (much to, and Aria can see it, Jason's dismay, and policy), and he gives a nod, or a little shake of his head. Aria suppresses a smile. He looks no different from before, his fringe still a little floppy, covering his eyes. Green, green eyes. An almost crooked back.

"He's just really... edgy," says Aria.

"I feel sorry for him," Emily says. "And—"

The bell, it rings again. And then:

"Will the following students please report to the office: Emily Fields, Aria Montgomery, Spencer Hastings, and Hanna Marin."

Their phones go off—just like yesterday, and that freaky text. What would be in store for them today?

Dead girls walking.  
—A

* * *

"...So let's see," the creepy detective they were "confronted" by yesterday stands in front of them. Aria shifts uncomfortably on the rough sofa, and she can feel Hanna and Emily stiffen from beside her—Hanna especially. Like they'd been connected to some tremor-measuring machine. He clears his throat. "You thought you heard her scream." His hard, icy eyes stay on Spencer's.

"I-I said that, yeah," she nods.

"And when you three," he says, as he points at Aria, Hanna, and Emily. "woke up in the barn, Alison was gone, and so was Spencer." This was on a loop, too. Constantly. Whether it was a year back, or yesterday, or even two minutes ago. A loop.

Spencer intervenes, "Yes, I woke up before them, and I realised that Ali was missing."

"So you went looking for her."

"That's what happened."

"I got that," he says irritably. God, what was up his ass? His eyes search the rest of them, and he sighs, before saying, "So was this a slumber party, or—"

"Is this an interrogation?" says Hanna bitterly.

"No," smirks the detective. "just a routine follow-up." He pauses. "Why did you guys all fall asleep?"

What the hell was up with this... geezer? Such a fucking dumbass.

"I guess we were tired," Hanna says, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

"You guys were tired," he says.

Emily quips up—"Look, we've told you everything we know, just like we did the night she went missing."

He nods, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I know, and you see, the thing is... It's almost exactly what you said last year." Pause. Pause. Pause. "Almost like it was rehearsed."

"Like Em said, we've told you everything we know," Aria says.

He gives them this... loathsome look, and Aria realises that perhaps they should start looking out for themselves, if guys like this were out there.

* * *

"He knows we're lying," Emily says as soon as they are out, and able to breathe.

"Lying is not a crime," says Hanna.

"It is when you're giving false statements to the police," Spencer points out—smartass.

"Oh, please," Hanna says, and rolls her eyes. "We lied about drinking."

Aria wants to say something, but she can't get one word in edgeways—it's all I don't know I don't know she's confused. Frazzled. Deprived of any answer. When was lunchtime again? The familiar stomach roll of hers was a magnificent distraction.

"We should have told the police the truth about Jenna's accident the night it happened," Emily says, and she buries her face in her hands—Aria focuses on the small clock above one of the janitor closets. Two minutes now. She is starving.

"I wanted to, remember?" Hanna says.

"We had a chance to do more than just tell the truth," Spencer nods along. "We had a chance to stop Ali."

"But we didn't."

* * *

4th July 2009

"Orange is definitely the wrong colour for you, Spence," Alison says, raising her eyebrows so they're barely visible—she immediately pulls the scarf away from Spencer's grasp, instead, wrapping it around her own neck. She dances, looking out into the window. Aria is munching on some popcorn with Hanna, watching it all, more or less, unravel. Spencer's not happy.

"I see you! Oh, my God, I can't believe it!" Alison jerks her head, her hands resting on her hips—her hair flails almost everywhere, and her eyes look like she can kill. She stomps her feet, and knocks long and hard on her window.

"Who was it, Ali? What did you see?" questions Emily.

"He was in that tree... spying on us!" Ali groans. "I am so creeped out!

"Who was it?"

"It was that perv. Toby Cavanaugh," Ali's voice is full-on disgust.

Emily widens her eyes, but seems a little unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! He was right there—I bet he saw us all naked," Alison feigns vomiting. Aria gets up from the bed, to have a look for herself—nothing. Nothing at all. Should she—they—believe Alison?

"Should we tell someone?" says Hanna, she, too, getting off the bed.

Alison's look is now smug. She winks at them all, closing the curtains of the bedroom. She gives them all a smile, a sickening one. Aria doesn't think she likes it. "I mean we could," she says, and walks over to the door. With one sweep of silvery blonde hair over her shoulder, she says, "But I have a better idea."

Aria doesn't remember much after that night—that night they went and...

God, how sick were they? Toby may have been a pervert, but they had ruined Jenna's life. Sure, it was a joke, but man, how far did they have to go? That far?

Aria shivers at the thought.

* * *

 **a/n:** i had been meaning to update in such a loooonnggg time. i have terrible writer's block currently, and so this is all i can give you. idek. i'm also planning to update IIWAF, so stay in tune :)

if you want to see how jason looks like for at least this season, see drew in tower prep. aghhhh so adorable. *swoon* but i like him any way, so... :PP

edit: words being weird. i can't be asked to go through every word that needs italics. ajkegflKAUGUUK


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